One of the strange upsides to the Big D has been an increase in empathy. I used to suffer from random bouts of jealousy and shadenfreude. I say “suffer” because I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who could rejoice in the simple happiness of others. But the old comparison game is too tempting.
Now I just find I’m just genuinely glad if other people are happy / in love / have a fascinating new job / are pregnant / getting married / having buckets of great sex / having an adventure etc. Because those things are fab. You’d think, with the recent wallowing in meh, that I’d be even more pitiful in my internal bleatings about the great unfairness of it all. Instead, my sad heart blooms with love and something I can only describe as a kind of soft, gentle pleasure that others can enjoy what I seem to be unable to.
How odd. I hope, in all of this, that this side-affect stays when the sun comes back.